


Pink Shell Motel

by ahestele



Series: Embers [1]
Category: Eminem (Musician), Hanson (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-31
Updated: 2007-07-31
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahestele/pseuds/ahestele
Summary: Post-Embers.  Taylor gets a blast from the past he didn't expect.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is completely and categorically a work of fiction.  
> Dedication: This one I wrote for me. :-)

Tay pulled the Toyota into the parking lot and squinted at the neon sign someone had forgotten to turn off when the sun came up.

He’d gotten lost twice on the way, including once at a red light when he thought the group of guys on the corner sharing a bottle in a paper bag at eleven a.m. in the morning were going to approach him, and he’d never have the chance to lie to his boyfriend about what the hell his white queer ass was doing in this part of Detroit by himself. 

He could see the headlines: “Local figure skater carjacked in high drug area! Police have no leads! Film at eleven.” 

The group of men had just stared him down as Tay sat through the longest light of his life, and they eye locked him all the way down the street. Much like the motel clerk was doing as she peered out of the dingy window to the registration ‘office’ a dilapidated looking blockey structure with a torn screen door and a tired ‘vacancy’ sign in the window. 

Jesus, he had to be insane. 

Looking at the room numbers he drove slowly as they got bigger and pulled into a parking space in front of room twelve. The only other cars in the place were across the lot and one shiny black Explorer that looked even more out of place than the Camry. He eased in next to it, turned off the car, and then sat there a second before forcing himself to open the door. 

/stupidstupidstupidTaylor. This is stupid. Get back in and drive away./ But he wasn’t going to. He’d shown up; it was done. 

He raised his hand, knocked, and heard a rough voice from inside: “Get in.” 

Tay stepped inside, then turned as the door closed behind him, staring at the glowing ember in the darkness and hearing the voice of someone he hadn’t seen for over two years. 

*~*~*~ EARLIER

“This Proof,” the voice on the phone had said into his ear yesterday and Tay paused, dropping a few towels out of his arms as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. 

He’d been sorting clothes for a drive to his parents’ to use the washer and dryer because they were both out of underwear and clean socks, and Tay wouldn’t let Marshall reuse his socks, not even once, between washings. He’d called Marshall ‘Stinkyfeet’ once and Marshall had tickled him until Tay had almost wet his pants, but Marshall changed his socks regularly now. However, Tay had been the one to bitch, so starting the laundry was his problem. 

Marshall didn’t mind folding, or putting away but he hated sorting. 

“You there?” the voice on the phone demanded impatiently and Tay dropped the load of towels on the floor with the others and held the phone with his hand, tucking the palm of the other under his arm. He didn’t notice the defensive pose until he did it. 

“I’ll get him,” he said, as if it hadn’t been ages since Marshall had talked to his best friend and longer than that when they’d hung out. Tay knew. He’d been the one that dealt with the fallout and Marshall’s hurt that he hid and wouldn’t share, because no matter how much they loved each other and held each other, Tay wouldn’t ever be what Proof had been. Anger flared in him and he paced across the floor, stepping over the laundry piles, hand tightening on the receiver. 

“I ain’t calling for him.” 

Tay stopped heading for the laundry room and blinked. 

“Meet me at the Pink Shell Motel tomorrow. Eleven a.m. Got that?” 

“What?” 

“You heard me, a’aight?” 

“Why would I do that?” Tay asked. 

“’Cause you wanna know what I want.” 

Tay’s next incredulous words were said at a dial tone and he stared into space, stunned. 

“You seen my blue hoodie?” Tay jumped at Marshall’s voice and clicked off the phone facing his boyfriend, heart pounding. 

Marshall had walked in the living room with a huge armful of laundry, mostly jeans and t-shirts and the odd boxer trailing asunder. His cobalt blue eyes peered from behind the mound and immediately took Tay in. 

“You a’aight?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Tay tossed the phone on the couch and bent to pick up the towels again, walking towards the plastic basket on the floor. A full duffel bag already leaned on the coffee table and a half full one lay next to it. They hadn’t done laundry in a while. 

“I got it from the bathroom.” 

“A’aight.” Tay’s heart was still trip-hammering along and Marshall watched him some more. “Who was it?” 

“Telemarketers.”

“Fuckers.” 

Tay smiled as he dumped the towels in the empty laundry basket, the phone call already feeling surreal. The whole thing had lasted maybe 60 seconds, start to finish. He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? But he had already chosen not to mention it to Marshall; he had already lied. 

He looked over as his boyfriend tried to coax all the clothes in his arms into the half empty Army duffel while not losing any of it. He bent over and stuffed with one hand while the other gripped the bag and Tay crossed his arms and watched the waist of Marshall’s boxers peek over the loose jeans. Marshall’s shirt got caught with laundry stuffing and he cursed. 

Tay must have giggled because Marshall glared over his shoulder. 

“You gonna help or what?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” 

Marshall quirked a smile in his direction, eyes getting that look that could make Tay blush bright red in the middle of the grocery store. “Faggot.” 

Tay slapped his butt sharply. 

“Shit!” the laundry fell on the floor, Tay laughed out loud, then shrieked when Marshall gave chase running through the house twice before trapping himself in the bedroom. Marshall’s flying tackle knocked the laughter into gasping wheezes as Tay struggled on the unmade bed, trying to twist his wrists out of Marshall’s hands. Marshall straddled his hips and smiled evilly, his denser muscles pinning Tay to the bed as Tay giggled and squirmed. 

“Give.” Marshall panted. 

“No!” Tay laughed, arching for all he was worth, and it was impossible to do both. 

“Say ‘I’m a bitch for Marshall’s ass.’” 

“No!” Tay laughed harder, fists opening and closing over the unbreakable fists on his wrists. His stomach was cramping from laughing so hard. 

“Say it.” 

Tay wiggled frantically under him but it was useless because working at the print shop had given Marshall some really good muscles. He did lots of loading and unloading of trucks and was starting to work on the big machines. The muscles on his arms had gotten sinewy and firm, the new tattoo on his left bicep rippling when Marshall reached for the cereal, and his legs had gotten stronger since he’d started playing pickup hockey games on Sunday mornings. But Tay had gotten stronger, too, since he started lifting, and he almost bucked Marshall off the bed before Marshall regained his grip and his balance on Tay’s hips. 

Hardness dug into Tay’s stomach during one wiggle and his laughed tapered into a surprised sound that made Marshall still momentarily. 

Their breaths heaved as they looked at each other and Tay watched the cobalt get midnight blue, dark and deep. The air suddenly became thick and heavy in the small space between them and he struggled to inhale, each breath full of Marshall’s scent, earthy and soap and skin. He felt himself answer the need between Marshall’s legs with his own. 

Tay’s lashes fluttered closed at the pressure and heat down there, and when Marshall’s hips gave a small rock on the bed’s weak springs, Tay threw his head back with a moan, digging his heels in the rumpled blankets and lifting his hips. 

Marshall’s warm breath exhaled on his neck as the weight and length of him lowered, Marshall’s hands loosening, shifting, threading with his. Tay held tight, searching and finding the wet warmth of Marshall’s mouth, sinking into tongue and teeth. 

The laundry didn’t get done for quite awhile.

~*~*~*~*~*~* LATER

Proof looked the same except his dreads were gone. He wore expensive BAPE head to toe, all black, and yeah, Tay was probably the only gay figure skater that would recognize that brand; he got Marshall a BAPE jacket for his birthday so he remembered. He also recognized the Rolex on Proof’s thin wrist, and Proof really was the same: tall, thin, ink black obsidian eyes and proud set to his expressive features.

Tay had shot up a lot since the first time they’d ever seen each other in a McDonald’s restaurant; he knew he had. He could look Proof right in the eye, and he was no longer a skinny seventeen-year-old trying to keep weight. Marshall had taught him he could work out and still maintain his agility on the ice and Tay had never gone back. There was a muscle tone to him there hadn’t been before. Tay had also cut his hair recently, shorter, and he thought it made him look older. 

Proof could still probably kick his ass but he’d have to work at it. 

“I ain’t jumping you.” 

“I know,” Tay said, but the release of tension in his muscles at those words made him a liar. 

They stared at each other some more, Proof leaning against the dresser and Tay struggling not to cross his arms and squirm or give an inch. 

“What do you want, DeShaun?” Proof was Marshall’s name for him. They’d never been friends enough for Tay to use it, except in his head. 

Proof blinked at him then bent his head, laughing low and throaty, gravel over velvet. A Barry White laugh and Tay began to see how Proof had all the babies he’d apparently fathered. If Tay was a girl that laugh would make up for a lot and JESUS CHRIST he did not just think that. 

Sometimes the bizarreness of his life amazed him.

“Oh, you grown now, huh? You a man. How long that been?” 

“About as long as you’ve been a punk.” 

Tay’s words totally cracked DeShaun up and Tay simply stared at him as he held his stomach and doubled over. He wondered briefly if Proof was on something, but he didn’t think so. Proof had just always been able to make Tay feel like an over privileged rich queer. That only two out of the three applied didn’t seem to matter to Tay’s inferiority complex. 

“Woo! A’aight. I’m a punk now. A’aight.” 

“No, you’re a fucking asshole. Punk just sounds more polite.” 

Proof’s giggling dried up in an instant and the dark eyes got flat and void enough for Tay to realize he’d come here alone and no one knew where he was. 

“Guess I deserve that.” 

“You ‘guess’?” Tay gave it up and crossed his arms as Proof walked across the small room, his black and white leather sneakers scuffing across the nappy brown carpet. 

The room had a low bed with a visible dip in the middle, chipped furniture and dusty blinds. It didn’t go with Proof’s high end attire. The sneakers alone could pay their heating bill for a month. 

“You want a beer?” He took out a bottle from a plastic ice holder and Tay shook his head. Proof twisted off the cap and tipped the bottle downing half in one swallow, the knob of his Adam’s apple rising and falling. Tay’s eyes followed it then pulled away when Proof caught them. “That’s right. You don’t drink. Gonna go to the Oh-lympics. You still going to the Oh-lympics?” 

“Yes.” 

Proof nodded as if Tay’s one word answered more than just that question, and Tay wondered what Marshall would think if he came home and found him gone. He’d finally been at the printing shop long enough to get on day shift, but still. He’d come home early once or twice before. 

“He doing a’aight?” 

“Why didn’t you ask him yourself?” 

“He see Nathan?” Proof continued, ignoring Tay’s question and Tay thought of not answering, but an impasse didn’t seem like it would help anything. 

“Yeah, some.” Nathan, now a skinny eight-year-old with huge blue eyes, spent as much time as he could at their place. Tay had been apprehensive at first, not because of Nathan, but because Marshall’s mother was still, Tay was sorry, a twisted, opportunistic bitch, and Tay didn’t trust her. Marshall wouldn’t listen. Besides, Nate seemed happy to watch cable on their small TV set and fall asleep sprawled on them both, drooling on Marshall’s lap while Tay held his feet. The look of deep peace while he stroked Nathan’s hair was worth it. 

“Thought his mom was gonna start shit ‘cause…” Proof paused.

“Because we’re queer?” Tay finished. 

Proof nodded, taking another swig of beer. 

“She lost her built-in babysitter when Marshall moved out, so we see him. She’s pretty up front with her bigotry.”’ He couldn’t help the emphasis on the ‘her’ and didn’t try, but still jumped when Proof slammed the empty beer bottle on the tacky dresser and stepped up to him, right in his face. 

“That what you think? You think I laid him off ‘cause you two playing house?” 

“Didn’t you?” 

They stared at each other eye-to-eye and Tay had a momentary lapse of concentration /wow I really did get taller/ when he realized they were exactly the same height. 

“Yeah. You would think that.” 

Tay stared at him, anger obliterating the nervousness at the dangerous hum of electricity that radiated off Proof. He was street hard in a way Tay would never be and they both knew it, but this had been coming a long time. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~ INTERLUDE

The doorbell rang when Tay was up to his elbows in foam from the sink, and the constant bass beat behind Jayzees’ voice in the other room almost drowned it out. The first few weeks the constant hip hop had given him one hell of a headache and they had a small argument about listening to some of Tay’s music, too, even if Marshall looked pained at the thought. They solved it by sharing Tay’s MP3 player back and forth, but some of the songs had grown on him; he could listen to Missy Elliot and Mary J. Blige all day. 

He hollered for Marshall, hoping Marshall hadn’t gone out to what passed for the back yard in another attempt to make it look better. 

Spring had brought up weak lime green sprigs of grass, but the ground still lay gray and unwilling beneath the sunshine, and they had spent one thankless afternoon hauling away all the trash people had dumped, hacking at the weeds that choked what had been Marshall’s Aunt Betty’s little garden, and trying to block the huge holes along the fence that dogs, or maybe transients, had dug to get into the yard. Some of them were so deep they looked like canals of excavated earth and Tay didn’t know how they were supposed to block them under the chain link fence. They had moved two large dirty pieces of wood in front of the two worst ones but that left at least three others. 

The doorbell buzzed again and Tay sighed, trying to move hair out of his face with his shoulder. 

“MARSHALL!!”

“Got it!!”

He rolled his eyes and scrubbed at the bottom of the pan that they’d made Macaroni and cheese in the night before. 

“MARSHY!” the shriek startled him and he looked up, already turning off the water. He hit the living room at a jog to see Marshall standing in front of the open door holding Nathan in his arms, Nathan’s thin legs wrapped around his waist and both hands locked tight over Marshall’s shoulders. It took Tay a second to recognize him and he walked over taking in how Marshall held the little boy tight, one hand rubbing his back, but how his flat, angry stare never left the face of the woman framed in the doorway.

Tay hoped his own face didn’t look as shocked as it felt.

Marshall’s mother stood there holding a paper bag in one hand, the top rolled in her long-nailed fingers. A large purse hung over one narrow shoulder, and when Tay’s mom saw another mother show that much leg she got a pinched look to her face. 

Ignoring the logical (and cowardly) voice that spoke up to stay out of it, Tay touched Marshall’s shoulder, wanting to be close, needing to touch him when his face looked like that.

His mother’s eyes flicked to Tay and looked at where Tay’s hand lay on Marshall’s shoulder at the seam of the beater Marshall wore when they did nothing special but hang out. Her face almost flinched and Tay’s flushed with anger but he kept quiet, calm, because this wasn’t about him. He could feel tension thrumming through Marshall’s body, taut and contained. 

“He still here?” her voice might have gone for neutrality but it didn’t work. 

Marshall’s jaw got tight and Tay looked away, not out of shame, but because he had a really hard time meeting her eyes while she hurt Marshall this way. 

And of course she’d wait until Nathan was in his arms for the first time in over six months, during which time Tay would wake up to hear the quiet sniffles from the other side of the bed and try to soothe them by curling around Marshall and holding him and loving him and it never worked and god, Tay could not stand the sight of her. 

“Aunt Betty knows,” Marshall said. If this surprised his mother she didn’t show it.

“You ain’t asking me in?” His mother tried a cracked smile so desperate Tay almost felt sorry for her. 

“No.” 

The smile wilted around the corners until it was a grimace and she leaned over the threshold, the lines in her face harsh and unhappy, her voice a defensive whisper. “I did the best I could for you.” 

Marshall’s eyes looked blue-gray, the warmth so gone they were discs of uncompromising slate. 

“Nathan,” Tay said. Nathan’s eyes had started to squeeze shut the minute his mom started talking and they opened a little. He had the same look Josh got when their mom forced him to drink cough medicine. 

“You wanna watch TV? We have Nickelodeon.” 

Nathan’s eyes opened wide and he sat up in Marshall’s arms. 

They’d gotten a good deal on basic cable, which Tay’s dad had offered to pay for, saying Tay should be able to watch himself on competitions without static. His dad had also paid for a microwave and some blinds. Since Tay didn’t want to flash the family next door when he walked in the living room naked, he’d accepted and tried not to poke at it.  
“Spongebob?”

“Maybe.” Tay smiled.

Nathan looked at Marshall’s face and Marshall turned to him with a crooked grin, the two of them nose to nose and smiling. 

“Can I, Marshy?” 

“Yeah, go on.” He gave a Nate a kiss on the cheek. 

“You watch with me?” Marshall placed him on the floor and ruffled the short brown hair. 

“In a minute, a’aight? Go with Tay.” Nate raced to their faded but really comfy couch and plopped down. Tay followed him, but it was really an illusion of privacy because the house just wasn’t that big and not even the cartoons on the TV drowned out the voices. 

“What do you want?” Marshall asked, still blocking the door. 

“He wanted to see you, okay? It’s been a real long time and he…he loves you….”

“That ain’t what you said before.” Marshall’s voice sounded low and dangerous and Tay raised the volume on the TV and stared out the corner of his eyes. 

“Look, okay? I’m…” she started to tug at her hair again and gave a tired sigh. Despite the too-tight clothes and careful makeup she looked every bit her age. “I need a break, just for a night. I can’t…I can’t afford to pay no one and….”

“Aunt Betty would watch him.” 

Marshall’s mother looked away, “She ain’t talkin’ to me.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“I didn’t do nothing! How do you know she didn’t do something, huh? She ain’t all perfect!” her face got a sullen look and Marshall shook his head, his profile still angry and hiding the rest of the emotions underneath. His mother probably didn’t even see how badly this was getting to him, and Tay made himself watch the television because it was too hard to watch Marshall. 

“I’ll pick ‘im up later, okay?” 

“Naw.” Tay glanced over, hoping Nate didn’t hear that. “You pick him up Sunday by six and I wanna see him. I wanna see him regular.” 

“Yeah, alright,” her voice said she would have agreed to almost anything and couldn’t believe her luck. Tay thanked god he wasn’t close enough to strangle her or say something unhelpful about getting it in writing. 

“That his stuff?”

“Yeah, some underwears and a shirt. I ain’t had time to do the washing.” 

Marshall snatched the bag and went to close the door. 

“Marshall, baby, I love…” 

“Get the fuck away from my house.” He shut the door in her face. 

Her voice sounded like it had some tears, but Tay could be wrong. 

Marshall turned and leaned back against the door staring at nothing. Tay left Nathan laughing at Squirrel Boy and walked over to him, his hands reaching for Marshall’s neck to the tendons so tight they felt like rocks under Tay’s soothing fingers. 

“Hey,” he whispered. Marshall focused on his face then looked down at the bag as if he’d forgotten he’d been holding it.

“He’s got clothes.” 

“Okay.” 

Tay looked at the lowered lashes, so long against Marshall’s cheeks that had started to get a really attractive tan from being outdoors and the pickup basketball games he played with the guys. Most of the guys. 

He rubbed the vulnerable hollow under Marshall’s skull and Marshall’s hands reached up to hold Tay’s arms. 

“I don’t need her.” The expression that lifted to Tay’s held such fragile anger, held there by force of will, but his eyes shone like sapphires. Tay shook his head, no, because he didn’t trust his voice. 

Marshall’s expression got unsure all of a sudden. “It’s a’aight, right? I mean….” 

“Come on,” Tay said knocking their foreheads together. “You know it is.” 

Their eyes met and Tay felt his own eyes sting from the look there. 

“Marshy! Fairly Odd Parents, Marshy!” 

Tay lifted an eyebrow.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth,” Marshall muttered under his breath and Tay laughed.

Then they sat and watched Fairly Odd Parents with Nate between them. He fell asleep halfway through and they left him on the couch with a blanket over him. 

Marshall then sat on a kitchen chair and looked at Nathan sleeping for a long time. 

Tay smoothed his boyfriend’s forehead and let him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~ LATER

“What do you want, DeShaun?” 

“What do you want? What do you want?” Proof repeated, imitating Tay’s crossed arms and Tay stared at him coldly. 

“What are you, nine? He doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t like lying to him.” 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Proof asked, moving out f Tay’s space and leaning back on the dresser. Apparently, they were not sitting. Fine with Tay. 

“Are you going to call him?” 

Proof averted his eyes. 

“Right,” Tay said grimly. “So what’s the point?”

“What’s it to you, huh? You don’t fuckin’ like me.” 

“You don’t like me.” Tay shrugged. 

“I don’t know you.” Proof cut a look at him and Tay smirked. 

“So we’re even.” 

Proof’s inky eyes became flat in the sudden mask of his face. 

“We ain’t even.” 

Tay studied him for a minute. “You’re right. We’re not. I won.” 

Dangerous emotion sparked in the obsidian depths but Tay held them. Proof stepped up near him, in his space, nearly nose to nose and Tay realized he could actually see himself in the simmering, angry orbs, narrowed, night black, and fixated. After a while it wasn’t a matter of not looking away but not being able to. Only Marshall had something like this look; as if the person had gone somewhere inside themselves and couldn’t be reached. 

Just when Tay thought he’d have to gulp or blink or do something, anything, Christ he was NOT made to play chicken this way, Proof’s full lips curled up one side and he stepped away towards the beer in the plastic bucket. 

“You still better than that other bitch.” 

“Thanks.” Tay’s voice sounded nonchalant in his head but his heart was galloping a mile a minute in his chest. “And fuck you.” 

Proof had flicked off another bottle cap and was downing half of another and choked mid-swallow, spraying a little foam as he laughed and waved his hand. 

Tay turned away and headed for the door but Proof caught him, voice still giggling and laughing. 

“Hold up, hold up, come on man. You know what I mean.” 

“I don’t have time for this.” 

“I ain’t gonna be around for awhile, a’tight?” Proof said by way of an answer and Tay blinked at him. 

“As opposed to the quality amount of time you’re around now?” 

“Yeah. As opposed to that.” 

“Where are you going?”

“New York.” 

“So why not just tell him?” 

“He don’t gotta know.” 

“But I have to?”

“Yeah. Just in case.”

Tay stared hard at him. “In case of what?” DeShaun downed some more beer and kept looking at him. “In case of….” Was he going to ask Marshall to go with him? the thought stopped him cold. 

Because he’d known how much being together had derailed Marshall’s life. Not just in the getting-married-having-babies sense, but in every sense. Marshall only saw his group of friends sometimes and Von not at all. He didn’t go to the clubs he used to because Tay couldn’t go with him, and he wouldn’t go to the gay bars with Tay though Tay had tried. He knew Marshall was still struggling with the Gay 101 of life, Tay knew this, but hadn’t thought Marshall had any plans that big, like, plans with his life, that being together had ruined. 

Now looking at DeShaun’s studiously silent face he wondered if New York was that plan. If he had come along and derailed that, and if asked, if DeShaun asked Marshall, if Marshall would still want it. 

DeShaun suddenly scoffed and turned away from him. “Don’t gimme that look. I ain’t taking your boy.” 

“Like you could,” Tay snapped, the words hollow, but he earned himself a measured look over DeShaun’s shoulder. 

“What’s in New York?” He tried for neutral and almost got it. 

DeShaun seemed to think before answering. “Some people I gotta talk to. You think you the only one want to get on up outta here?” 

“No,” Tay said too quickly but the inky black eyes took him in cynically. Because yes, he realized, he did. He’d told himself for a long time that DeShaun and Marshall’s friends had no ambition and no drive. He was also pretty sure he was not as nice a person as he thought he was. 

Proof scoffed. 

“Are you in…..trouble?” Tay pressed and earned himself another measured look. 

“Naw. I ain’t in trouble.” 

“Okay,” Tay said slowly and wondered whether to push. Proof must have seen the struggle on his face and Tay could almost see the shuffling of facts going on in his head; how much to reveal and how much to keep secret.

“Gotta see about some financing. That’s it.” 

If that was ‘it’ Tay wondered why Proof didn’t just tell Marshall. “I still don’t see….” Tay paused, staring at Proof’s level gaze. 

“So, wait,” Tay said slowly. “You’re letting just me know so that if something happens I not only have to tell him, I also have to tell him I lied?” Proof averted his eyes. “Oh, fuck you.” 

As he headed for the door, Proof caught his arm and Tay shook him off fiercely and turned to him, fists clenched, face flaming with anger.

“Ain’t nothing gonna happen! Damn! Why you gotta be like that?” 

“Did you plan this?” Tay demanded, “Because you made your choice. You’re the one that ditched him when we got together so I don’t know why you’re trying to start shit now.” 

“I didn’t ditch him, a’aight?” 

“What do you call it?” The flat rage in the inky eyes subsided a little, replaced by uncertainty. “You just froze him out with nothing. Do you know how important you are to him? How that hurt him? Do you?” Tay’s voice had risen with each sentence. He didn’t try to stop that, either, and he didn’t care how drama queen he sounded. Proof hadn’t had to look at Marshall’s face when another phone call went unanswered, when another birthday went unacknowledged. He hadn’t had to wrestle with the ugly knot in Tay’s stomach that told Tay exactly what Marshall gave up and how maybe his boyfriend wasn’t sure it was worth it sometimes. That Tay wasn’t worth it sometimes. 

“I ain’t like that..” Proof said, low and fierce. “I’m the one told the stupid fucker to go after you!”

“Which just makes it worse,” Tay said grimly. “If you’d rejected him from the start he’d understand. He thought you were okay with it.”

“He never thought I was okay with it, a’aight?” Proof pointed a long, bony finger at Tay’s chest and Tay lowered it away with one hand, not breaking Proof’s stare. “What you want from me? You want me to be chill my boy’s gay? You want me to be happy Nate’s the only son he ever gonna have? Naw, that ain’t me. He got enough shit in his life without this, too. I ain’t gonna front with you on that.” 

Tay hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to hit DeShaun until the nails from his fists cut into his palm.

“You know, I fucking love him,” he said hotly.

“Yeah, I fucking know that!” DeShaun gestured with his arms. “You still breathing ‘cause that’s true.” 

“Then why are you trying to mess it up?” Tay demanded and DeShaun threw up his arms in frustration. 

“I ain’t!” 

“Is that why you told just me, huh? What about Rufus or Denaun?”

"'Cause I don't need my business spread all over the hood, a'aight? This on the down low. You safe for that." 

Tay narrowed his eyes, suspicious of how much sense that made. Then he realized something else. “I’m going to have to tell everyone if something happens to you? And I’m supposed to believe you aren’t trying to get me killed?” 

“Naw, man! Not everyone! Just Marshall!” DeShaun rubbed his face with one hand, “Damn! You just like a woman. All suspicious and shit.” 

‘Hey!” Tay snapped and they glared at each other for long seconds until Tay crossed his arms and gave Proof his best Johnny attitude. 

“Are you done? Because I don’t try to win pissing contests from a prick.” 

Proof’s deadly scowl held momentarily then started to unravel line by line, eyebrows rising, and corners of his mouth twitching upwards. The ridiculousness of the situation, the entire surreal SILLINESS of everything descended upon Tay. Standing in this room in this crappy hotel acting as if Proof really couldn’t wipe the floor with his ass if he put his mind to it. What was Tay going to do? Snark him to death? 

DeShaun dissolved into cackles and Tay turned away shaking his head. He was trying not to smile but he was losing. They shuffled around on their feet, the air between them sheepish and strangely amicable, suddenly. Tay cleared his throat and studied the carpet. 

“We down?” DeShaun’s voice made him turn back one more time and he nodded after a moment. 

“Yeah. We’re down.” 

“A’aight.” 

With any luck this was all hypothetical and DeShaun would succeed, or not, and either come back, or not. 

The tension in the room had dissipated and they stood there in its aftermath, silent and assessing. 

“Thanks for coming,” DeShaun finally said and Tay decided to take this as his signal to get while the getting was good. 

“No problem,” he returned dryly but was surprised to see DeShaun cross the threshold of the small room to walk him to the door. 

Tay reached for the doorknob when DeShaun’s tapering dark fingers held it shut. He dropped his hand and turned, startled a bit by the close proximity. He could see the ink-black of DeShaun’s eyes and the strong features accentuated by the close shaved hair. The dreads had softened his face before and he looked older now, harder. But then, he probably was. 

“You take care ‘a him.” 

“I have so far,” he said coolly. The inky eyes looked into his for a second before Proof nodded, as if Tay had answered something profound, then reached for the doorknob. The door opened a few inches before Tay reached out and shut it with the flat of his palm and turned, meeting DeShaun’s eyes. 

“You could have had him.” 

DeShaun’s kept his stare, but he saw the emotion flicker in the steady gaze and finally DeShaun glanced away. 

“He loved you. He loved you first.” 

When DeShaun looked back Tay wondered if he even knew how much regret showed on his face as he shrugged. 

“That ain’t how we roll.” 

“It could have been.” He needed to stop, but the need to say, to voice what had always been a puzzle, was too strong. DeShaun just kept silent while Tay still searched his eyes. The moment held and grew while Tay looked at his own reflection in the dark beneath Proof’s lashes and wondered if the chances not taken kept DeShaun up at night.

He didn’t even move back when DeShaun stepped forward, it was done so casually, and then DeShaun kissed him. Brief, firm pressure on his lips, scrub of chin and he tasted warm, like salt and pepper. Then it was over. 

Tay gaped at him as he moved back slowly, knowing his stare was huge, sensing his mouth hanging open like a fish and just letting it. He couldn’t have been more surprised if DeShaun had sprouted wings and flown. DeShaun smiled widely, looking very pleased.

“That’s how he stops you from talking, huh?” 

“Oh, shut up.” Pretty lame comeback but Tay thought he was allowed. 

DeShaun opened the door finally and Tay stepped through, the brightness of mid-day blinding. He glanced over his shoulder one last time before Proof shut the door and got a silent jerk of chin as a goodbye. He returned it, heard the door shut, and walked to his car. 

He drove home without the radio on, the music of his thoughts steady and constant in his head, and when Marshall got home, much later, Tay walked into his arms and held him, breathing in the scent of printing ink, skin, and cotton. 

“’Sup?” his boyfriend murmured into the crook of his neck and Tay shut his eyes, kissed his shoulder, and sighing. 

“Not much.” 

“Day go a’aight? ” 

He nuzzled the worn t-shirt beneath his cheek for another second before lifting his head, smiling.

“It was a’aight.” Marshall smiled back, a smudge of ink on his cheek and together they headed for the kitchen to check what could be found for dinner.


End file.
